Accommodations
by owlcroft
Summary: The judge and McCormick discuss an accommodation, by either definition, in the den on Christmas Eve.


Accommodations

By

Owlcroft

"Hey, don't forget San Rio's three hours later than us." McCormick paused in pouring his glass of champagne. "No, wait. It's . . . three hours _earlier_. So if you're gonna call her at midnight -"

Hardcastle waved a hand – the one not holding his own glass – and shook his head. "I got it all figured out. Even set the alarm clock in the hall by the phone. Now hurry up with that."

McCormick set the bottle down and picked up his glass, clearing his throat importantly. "Okay. Here's to you and Aggie and a merry Christmas and a Happy 1990!"

"I'll drink to that," nodded the judge, and did. "And here's to the Nancy Hardcastle Memorial Legal Clinic and its Managing Director. Merry Christmas, kiddo."

Mark swallowed more champagne and then set his glass on the end table next to the couch. "So, that brings me to something I, uh . . . well, I wanted to talk to you about."

Hardcastle waited. Then he waited some more. After sampling his champagne again, he finally asked, "So, what is it? You forgot to get me a present or something and don't know how to tell me?"

McCormick snorted. "After all those hints? Your new portfolio, _with_ built-in calculator, is the red package right in the front. That one back there . . ." he pointed toward the back of the tree, " _that_ one's a surprise." He grinned smugly.

"Hmmph," grunted Hardcastle. "Well, so what did you want to talk to me about?" He moved his chair just a little closer to the tree at the side of the den, and leaned over to more closely inspect the package at the back wrapped in green paper with white reindeer gamboling on it.

"Ah, well, it's . . . you know." Mark sipped more of his champagne, checked the level in the bottle, then sipped again. "It's you and Aggie. Getting married, I mean." He held up a hand as if in protest. "You know how glad I am about it – and it's about time, too – "

"Yeah, well, that's Aggie's fault, not mine. I asked her in April, ya know."

Mark shrugged. "You know how many friends she's got there and it took a while to sell the charter business and wrap things up and say her good-byes. Besides, it's kind of nice to start a new life on New Year's Day, right?"

The judge rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "There's something to be said for that. Still, it's not like I've got all the time in the world left. Yeah, yeah, spare me all that yap about me living for another forty years and all. I'm not really that bent out of shape about it. Besides, this isn't the time to get all weepy or whiny. It's Christmas Eve and I'm getting married in a week. Hey, bottoms up there!"

McCormick smiled at him and finished his own glass and poured them each another. "So, that's what I have to talk to you about. You and Aggie." He studied the tree for a moment, then said, "You know I couldn't be happier for you both and I'm really glad you're finally getting together permanently. But . . ." he sighed briefly then continued, speaking rapidly, "that means a lot of changes around here, and I just wanted you to know that I've already found a nice little place near the clinic that I can afford and I'll be out of your hair here by the middle of January."

"What?" said the judge.

"I mean, look, we all knew things would be different . . . and that I'd be in the way, so I just wanted you to know you didn't have to say anything about it. It's all taken care of." Mark took a healthy swig of champagne.

"What?" said Hardcastle again.

McCormick patted himself on the chest, belched quietly, then drained his glass. "And I'll still be here whenever you need a Tonto, or a 'fast hand at the wheel', or any kind of help. You know that, right?" He looked up at a totally bemused judge.

"What?" was the inspired response. "I mean . . . what? What are you talking about?" Hardcastle scowled, finished his own glass and gestured for a refill. "Are you talking about moving out? Out of here and . . . somewhere else?" He waved a hand in the general direction of the side lawn.

"Yeah," Mark replied somberly. "Somewhere else. Look, you two aren't gonna want anybody wandering around all over the place at all hours. Just suppose Aggie came down to the kitchen one morning in her pain-wah to find me -"

"Her _what_?"

"Pain-wah, that frilly little nightie thing that brides wear? You know, p-e-i-g-n-o-i-r." McCormick raised his eyebrows hopefully.

"Oh, peignoir, okay." Hardcastle shook his head. "No, hang on a minute. You think Aggie would wear a peignoir, and where did you learn to pronounce that anyway? She's more like to come down in a flannel nightshirt or overalls."

"Well, _anyway_ ," Mark tried again, a little desperately, "you neither of you want me showing up all over the place and I figured it would make more sense for me to – "

"Hold it," interrupted the judge again. "That's your _real_ mistake, trying to figure out stuff on your own. Now, wait a minute," he responded to an attempted interruption from opposing counsel. "You don't have all the information, is your problem. Now, listen up." He finished his second glass of champagne, then poured more into both glasses, finishing the bottle.

"What you don't know is that Aggie talked to me, about you, when I went down there last week." Hardcastle looked through his champagne at the tree lights and tried to subtly nudge the green-wrapped package with his right foot.

"Me? And leave that alone," said McCormick sternly.

"Wha-at? I wasn't doing anything." Hardcastle went for his insouciant look, failed to pull it off, and gave up. "Anyway, we were talking about you being the best man and all and she wanted me to tell you that . . . well, that she didn't want you feeling out of place around here. Once we were back from the honeymoon, I mean."

Mark sat quietly, nursing his glass, looking at the brightly-lit tree.

"Look, she brought it up, not me. I mean, I know that maybe you're feeling a little . . . I dunno, like a fifth wheel or something. But you know what Aggie said?" The judge stared at the tree himself for a moment. "She said this has been _your_ home for longer than it has hers. Or will have been hers. Or will be hers." Hardcastle frowned ferociously. "She said it better than that."

"I bet she did," McCormick murmured with a small smile.

"But the _point_ is that this is your _home_ , has been for years now. And my marrying Aggie doesn't change that." The judge stopped abruptly. "Unless . . . you want it to? Are you trying to tell me you want to move out and be on your own now? 'Cause I got no problem with that. You feel like you wanna have a place all to yourself, I can understand that. But," he gulped the rest of his champagne before continuing, "if you're thinking that we – or _I_ – want you to move out, then you're wrong. You couldn't be wronger."

A silence fell, then Hardcastle added, "You realize . . . we're not gonna be having any kids. I mean, Aggie and me." The silence resumed. After a long pause he added, "So we were kinda counting on you – I mean, at some point, ya know – to . . . well, if there were ever gonna be any rugrats underfoot everywhere I look, it's gonna be up to you."

Mark gulped down the rest of his own glass. "Look, if you two want me here . . ."

" _I_ want you here. Okay?" The judge looked down at his empty glass, then at the tree, then out the window, then – finally – at the man staring at him across the coffee table. "I want you to stay. I was kinda counting on you being around. Never even considered you might leave. So . . . is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yeah." The McCormick grin broke through. "It was. And you know you can always change your mind, right? And you know what else? It's a good thing I put another bottle of champagne in the fridge, 'cause we're gonna need it after all this heart-to-heart stuff."

Hardcastle grinned back at him. "'Bout time you had a decent idea around here. Go get it and get some of those cookies while you're at it."

"Another good thing is I decided to go to mass tomorrow instead of at midnight. Hey, I'll bring out those spiced nuts, too." Halfway up the stairs to the hallway, he turned abruptly and said to a guilty-looking judge, "And don't touch that present!"


End file.
